Darleen Keith is an undergraduate history
student at Carleton University and mother of four. She had two great uncles
serve in the Battle of Hong Kong, both of which survived the prison camps. She
is currently finishing up her degree to pursue graduate studies.

‘Heads Held High’

The Battle of Hong Kong, 1941

And Beyond

George Buckley, E30087
Lancelot Ross, E1144

Submitted
by: Darleen Keith

HIST
4302, Dr. Tim Cook

April 2, 2008

Heads Held High: The Battle of Hong Kong, 1941 and Beyond

The
mood is sombre as a diminishing band of brothers gather to pay their final
respects and honour a fellow comrade who fought with them and endured with them
so long ago. Remembered is a strong and gentle man, a carpenter by trade, who
led a simple life filled with hard work, friends and family. It is not long
before memories shift back in time to when these veterans were in the prime of
their life, despite the world being engaged in World War II. Phil Doddridge
remembers the summer of 1940: “I joined the Army on July, 1940, at the age of
18. Nothing much was doing in the small village of New Richmond in 1940. […] I
had quit school the year before and drifted rather aimlessly, doing odd jobs and
living with my parents.”1 Similar experiences are recounted by
Lance Ross, Ken Cambon and others who recall joining because of the advertised
pay of $1.30 per day, a sense of loyalty and a desire for adventure.2
These men and others from parts of Quebec, Ontario, and Maritime Provinces,
were welcomed and encouraged to join the Royal Rifles of Canada.4

The despatch of 1,975 Canadian volunteers on October 27, 1941, to the Pacific front attracted little attention in Canada.3 Mention
in the national press of Canadian forces in the battle of Hong Kong occurred in
a small column in the Toronto Daily Star on December 8, 1941.4 Official
Canadian historian of the Second World War, C.P. Stacey, has stated that the history
of the Canadian Army is chiefly concerned with the campaigns of the Western
Allies against Germany more than the war against Japan in the Pacific.5
This statement is quite understandable given that, by 1941, Canada had spent considerable time and resources in building a large field artillery in the U.K. How ironic it is, then, that “although Canada directed its primary war effort
against Nazi Germany the first major battle fought by the Canadian army was not
in Europe, but in the Far East.”6 This paper will turn its attention away
from the campaigns and public memories associated with Germany during World War II, and focus on the part played by two Canadian infantry battalions sent
to the Pacific. In 1941, the Canadian government despatched two battalions,
namely, The Royal Rifles of Canada and the Winnipeg Grenadiers, designated as ‘C’
Force, to Hong Kong. While the experiences of both battalions were
intertwined, due to space limitations this paper will concentrate more on the
Royal Rifles of Canada. However, material that covers prisoner of war
experiences and challenges faced upon liberation are representative of both
battalions. Furthermore, this paper will not cover the experiences of the two
Canadian nursing sisters who accompanied ‘C’ Force, nor will it address the
unique experiences of those higher authorities and commanding officers.

Much has been written about the fall of Hong Kong and the
experiences of Canadian POWs in camps in Hong Kong and Japan. Much of the existing scholarship is concerned about specific details of the battle and
controversies surrounding Canada’s decision to send troops. This research
paper will draw upon a wide variety of primary and secondary sources to explore
the battle of Hong Kong during World War II, however, the purpose of this paper
is not to analyze existing scholarship or uncover new sources that cover the
battle leading up to the final surrender. This paper will provide a brief
overview of the battle of Hong Kong, including controversies surrounding the
Canadian government’s decision to send troops, as a precursor to the events
that followed. Furthermore, this paper will capture some of the shared
experiences relative to the 17 days of battle, such as chaos, exhaustion, and
casualties. Public memory associated with the battle will also be explored, as
Hong Kong veterans feel that it is a “terrible story known to few Canadians.”7

Historian,
Daniel Dancocks, has stated that Canadian prisoners of war are the “forgotten
men of World War II, in that much has been written that glorifies military
efforts but neglects prisoners of war.”8 New social histories have recently
emerged that focus on ordinary men who did extraordinary things under
extraordinary circumstances. Through the examination of diaries and memoirs the
question will be asked: “What is the experience of being a prisoner of war?” This
paper will add to existing scholarship on prisoners of war and focus
specifically on the shared experiences of prisoners of war incarcerated in Hong
Kong and Japan. Furthermore, public memory associated with the prisoner of
war experience of our Hong Kong veterans will be addressed to show a shift in
attitudes as numbers of remaining Hong Kong veterans dwindle.

Most
scholarship covering the battle of Hong Kong ends with a final chapter covering
liberation in 1945. Historians are not unique in this, as many ex-prisoners of
war, upon describing their experiences through published memoirs, often end
their account with a final note declaring: “the rest is history.”9
While the rest is history, it is a history largely undocumented by historians
or veterans. This paper will analyze primary and secondary resources to address
some of the challenges faced by the ex-POWs once they returned home to reveal why
some wounds take longer to heal than others.

Each
and every year on November 11, Canadians stop for a moment of silence to honour
those who have laid down their lives; the ‘ultimate’ sacrifice paid in the name
of freedom. This paper will conclude by asking the question: “How have we
honoured or recognized those soldiers that did not pay the ‘ultimate’ sacrifice
of their lives on the battlefield?” The subject of public memory and recognition,
as it pertains to the ex-POWs of Hong Kong will be examined and it will be
shown that there are many who have dedicated considerable time and energy in
making sure that Canadians remember the strength and fortitude of those men who
served and endured Hong Kong, and that their sacrifices remain a lasting
testament that all sacrifice in the name of freedom deserves to be recognized.

The
Royal Rifles of Canada were mobilized on the 8th of July, 1940, at Quebec. Preceding mobilization, the unit trained in the Quebec district and in Sussex, New Brunswick. In November and December of 1940, the battalion went to Newfoundland as part
of the Island’s garrison, followed by coastal defence in St. John, N.B. late
the following year, where they remained until they were “warned for duty with
the expedition to Hong Kong on 9 October 1941.”10 The
battalion was commanded by a seasoned World War I veteran and officer of the
Permanent Force, Lieutenant-Colonel W.J. Home, M.C. Ken Cambon, of the Royal
Rifles of Canada, recalled, as clear as if it were yesterday, that “we wanted
to go to war.”11

The
training policy required a full sixteen weeks of training before despatch to
any front. The subject of ‘training,’ with respect to the two battalions sent
to Hong Kong, has been the source of much spilled ink and controversy. The
first rumblings of concern questioning the training of the men sent overseas
occurred after the fall of Hong Kong in December of 1941, by George Drew, Ontario
Conservative Leader, leading to the appointment of a Royal Commission in
February of 1942. The standard of training of the men was one of the primary
topics considered during the Royal Commission, commonly referred to as the Duff
Commission. Historians, many decades later, continue to address the subject
of training and make their own conclusions as to whether the training these men
received hindered their performance during the seventeen days of battle or not.

As the
subject of training has been a source of controversy through the years, equal
scholarship and debate surrounds the government’s decision to send the
battalions it did. After a number of exchanges, the Dominion Office cabled Ottawa with respect to Hong Kong requesting a small reinforcement of the garrison of Hong
Kong by “one or two battalions,” to increase the current strength of the
garrison, provide a moral effect in the Far East and reassure Japan as to the intent of holding Hong Kong.12 Then Acting Minister of National
Defence, Major Power, testified at the Duff Commission that “I do not think
there was ever any question really or any discussion […] as to any reason why
we should not take it on. It struck me as the only thing to do.”13
The difficulty the government faced was not over the question of sending the
battalions, as Ottawa depended on London for intelligence information, but over
which battalions it should send.

On
September 24, 1941, the Director of Military Training, J.K. Lawson, prepared
infantry lists of battalions in Canada breaking the battalions into groups of
1) best-trained, being designated ‘A’ group, 2) next best trained, ‘B’ group,
and 3) “due to either recent employment requiring a period of refresher
training or to insufficient training, are not recommended for operational
consideration at present, ‘C’ group.14 There was opposition among military
leaders in sending sufficiently trained troops, ready for England, for guard duty in the Pacific.15 As the task of the Hong Kong garrison
was to defend the Colony against attack and deny the use of the harbour,
General Crerar, Chief of the General Staff in Canada, recommended the Royal
Rifles of Canada and the Winnipeg Grenadiers. Crerar, later testifying at the
Duff Commission, outlined his decision to recommend the Royal Rifles and the
Winnipeg Grenadiers to “adhere to the principal of territorial representation,”
with both Eastern and Western Canada being fairly represented.16 Furthermore,
he felt that their previous garrison duty experience was “not in many respects
unlike the task which await[ed] them in Hong Kong.” 17 The
benefit of hindsight should not allow one to dwell upon the obvious paradoxes. Thus,
on the 27th of October, 1941, 1,975 Canadians, commanded by
Brigadier J.K. Lawson, boarded the Awatea, with one company of the Royal
Rifles on board the armed merchant cruiser, HMCS Prince Robert, and set
sail for the Far East.

The
year 1941 saw Hong Kong as a Crown colony of the British Empire. Located 90
miles southeast of Canton, China, it was one of their smallest but most
valuable assets. The Japanese viewed Hong Kong as a major enemy naval base
serving as headquarters and base of the Royal Navy’s China station.18
Before the arrival of ‘C’ Force, Hong Kong had an existing garrison of four
regular army infantry battalions, consisting of two British units, and two
Indian Army units. These battalions were supplemented by the Hong Kong Volunteer
Defence Corps. William Allister, of the Winnipeg Grenadiers, recalled his
arrival into the Hong Kong harbour “on a bright tropical morning, November
1941.”19 He further commented that “the air
was throbbing with the explosive intensity of the excitement. […] We marched
away from the harbour with the band blaring a bright marching tune, blissfully
unaware we’d be crawling down this same [road], what was left of us, noses
down, tails dragging, backs bent, wounded, weak, shoved and kicked along like
beaten dogs…” 20

On 6
November 1941, the Japanese Imperial Headquarters ordered the China
Expeditionary Army to prepare to attack Hong Kong with the objective to
“neutralize air power and destroy vessels and installations,” with a main
attack occurring on the north shore of Hong Kong Island.21 Canadian
medical historian, Charles Roland, points out that there is no suggestion that
“only the Japanese, or only the Axis powers behaved brutally during WWII, […]
however, inhumane and brutal treatment occurred in Far Eastern POW camps; that
statement needs no further documentation.”22 Unfortunately, Japan had made no preparations for feeding and housing some 11,000 prisoners of war, “as
the concept of so many surrendering was simply inconceivable to them.”23
A brief outline of the Japanese Imperial Army and Japanese culture in the
World War II context is necessary for a better understanding of the events that
followed.

The word ‘bushido’ occurs many times in accounts of the war in the
Pacific.24 Bushido is a Japanese cultural
phenomenon providing guidelines to appropriate Japanese behaviour on the
battlefield, and is solely concerned with relations between samurai and their
conduct in battle.25 Samurai were to have no relation with
the enemy and women and children were not to be protected, as witnessed in
other countries. Furthermore, the concept of ‘surrender’ and being taken
prisoner was different from that in Europe, Canada and the United States. Minister of War, Tojo Hideki, testified on his own behalf concerning the philosophy
of being taken prisoner during the war crimes trials following the war: “In Japan [being taken prisoner] is a disgrace. Under Japanese criminal law, anyone who
becomes a prisoner while still able to resist has committed a criminal offense,
the maximum penalty for which is the death penalty.”26 Surrendering
during war was directly related to that of dishonour, bringing shame to one’s
own family, government and nation.27 Deep-rooted cultural differences
between Japan and Canada during the War added to the difficulty of Western
prisoners trying to make sense of the brutality and inconsistency of their
Japanese captors.

A period of three weeks lapsed from the time the Canadians landed in
Hong Kong, after a long sea voyage, to the time the Japanese first attacked
the mainland. This was a severely short period of time to acclimatize to the
weather, food, time change and terrain, before being thrown into full-scale
battle. Stacey points out that, “the extraordinarily rugged terrain of Hong Kong was one of the hardest battlefields on which Canadians fought in any theatre.”28
A British soldier, commenting on this short period of acclimatization, noted
in his diary: “Poor devils! Straight from guard duties in the West Indies &
Canada they had not a clue about H.K. terrain and were pitch forked into the
battle almost before they knew which was the Island and which was mainland.”29
The series of disasters which marked the opening months of the war with Japan were unprecedented and disorienting at best. Official accounts written by company
officers during the battle were destroyed shortly before surrender, for fear of
coming into the hands of their captors. Any ‘primary’ material available to historians
was written by memory, months or sometimes years later, while prisoners of war
and are often fragmented, contradictory and confusing. There are many
excellent scholarships available that have outlined the battle in extensive
detail. Canadian historian, Tony Banham, has produced an hour-by-hour and often
minute-by-minute account of the battle in his book, Not the Slightest Chance.
Extensive coverage of the battle is beyond the scope of this paper; however, a
broad outline will be provided, focusing mostly on the movements of the Royal
Rifles of Canada during the battle.

Many historians, for purposes of clarity, have divided the battle of
Hong Kong, 1941, into three categories: 1) loss of mainland (December 8-13),
2) siege of Island (Dec. 13-18) and 3) invasion of Island (Dec. 18-25). This
paper will subscribe to the above categories, as well, and provide a brief
outline of each. There are many “given’s’ that flow into each account of the sudden
attack of the Japanese and ensuing battle: 1) lack of military preparedness
for the battle Canadians became engaged in, as it was “universally anticipated
that the Canadians would serve as garrison troops,”30 2) inaccurate
appreciation of Japanese intentions made by western powers,31 and 3)
lack of adequate sea, land and air defence, as well as insufficient transport
vehicles and artillery. Stacey’s final judgement of the battle seems rather
obvious: “we can see today [1957] that the decision to reinforce Hong Kong was a mistake.”32 Major John H. Price later recorded:
“it required no great military genious to predict the outcome of the battle
once the Japanese had landed on the island with their control of sea and air
and great superiority in weapons and men.”33 However, Stacey reminds
scholars and non-scholars alike that “the historian’s hindsight is always far,
far better than the foresight of the men, groping in the dark, who had to do
the work at the time.”34

1. Loss of Mainland: In the days leading up to the attack,
Brigadier J.K. Lawson recorded in his diary, “’news’ says war in fortnight.
Hope our transport arrive.”35 Transport did not arrive as hoped when,
on 7 December 1941, the Royal Rifles of Canada, situated on the Island, received orders from Island Brigade Headquarters to “stand to.”36 On
Monday, December 8, at 4:45 a.m. local time, Major Charles Boxer, of Fortress
Headquarters in Hong Kong, heard on a Tokyo broadcast “instructions in code to
their nationals that war was imminent with Great Britain and America.”37 Everyone
was alerted. At the same time the Japanese prepared to attack Hong Kong, other
Japanese forces were attacking in the Philippines, Malaya and Hawaii.

Civilians of Sham Shui Po and Kai Tak are awoken at 8:00 am by the loud crescendo of an air raid warning. Japanese bombers could be seen overhead
diving down to drop their payload on strategic targets. No units or sub-units
of the Royal Rifles were on the mainland throughout this period of attacks. Within
36 hours of the initial attack, the major line of defence, the Gin Drinkers
Line, had been broken. Within five days the Japanese Army had absolute control
of the mainland, leading to the decision of General Maltby, General Officer
Commanding British Troops in China, on the afternoon of 12 December, to
“withdraw all remaining troops to the island immediately.”38 The
initial defence of Hong Kong had not begun well.

2. Seige of Island (December 13-18) : In the early morning
of December 13, the first Japanese demand for surrender is written by
Lieutenant General Sakai and delivered to the Governor of Hong Kong, Mark
Young, informing him that “my artillery and air force, which are ready to crush
all parts of the Island, now await my order.”39 Saiko’s message further
notes that unless negotiations for surrender begin immediately, “further
resistance will lead to the annihilation of a million good citizens.”40
Governor Young replied, in short, that no meeting or parley would be held on
the subject of surrender.41 True to their word, massive artillery
and aerial bombardment resumed fall both day and night. Sgt. Lance Ross, of
the Royal Rifles of Canada, recorded the bombardment in his diary on December
16th: “heavy shelling all day – expect attack at anytime.”42
Elsewhere, on the 16th of December, Governor Young had received his
second formal request for surrender by the Japanese Military and Naval
Authorities. Once again, Young rejected any request for surrender. Sgt.
Ross’ premonitions were correct, as two days later, at 21:00 hours, the first wave of Japanese soldiers landed on the Island.

3. Invasion of the Island (Dec. 18-25): On December 18th,
Rifleman Sydney Skelton, recorded the following in his diary: “This day has
been the worst yet. Our position has become a living hell. My nerves are on
edge. I could eat a horse.”43 Skelton had no possible way of knowing
the extent to which his living hell would soon unfold. Once the Japanese
landed in Hong Kong, “it was sheer chaos.”44 ‘Chaos’ is what many
diaries, memoirs and historical accounts refer to during the invasion of the Island by the Japanese. A full detailed account of the activities covering the 18th
to the 25th is beyond the scope of this paper. Many scholarships
have meticulously covered the final battle in great detail. What will be
highlighted will be common experiences shared by many Canadian soldiers held up
in various locations on the Island. A number of commonalities were that of
chaos, exhaustion, poor communication, and casualties.

Ken
Cambon, of the Royal Rifles, recalled the confusion while awaiting orders. On
December 18th, Lieutenant G.M. Williams’s and J.E.D. Smith’s
platoons of C Company Royal Rifles, were ordered to occupy Mount Parker to block the Japanese advance.45 Cambon later recalled the events of
that day: “As I remember, we seemed to spend the day climbing hills, not
knowing where we were, receiving conflicting orders and always being shot at by
someone.”46 Historian, Brereton Greenhous,
addresses the subject of chaos in modern battles when he states: “All battles
[…] inevitably become confused and chaotic affairs as clashing wills and
failing technologies generate all kinds of friction.”47 The
metaphor ‘fog of war’ is often used to describe the confusion and chaos that
exists in battle. Adding to the confusion and chaos, communication systems
were in a complete state of disorder. The Royal Rifles of Canada Regimental history
records how Brigadier Atkinson, when as Adjudant of the Royal Rifles, attempted
to reach Island Headquarters by telephone and found himself “talking to a Jap
who spoke broken English.”48 Communication problems existed
throughout the entire battle and it was difficult for Headquarters to keep
contact with sub-units.

“C”
Company, of the Royal Rifles of Canada, War Diary made note of the state of the
men dug in: “None… had had a hot meal for five days owing to the destruction
of the cooking arrangements. They have been doing continuous manning for over
a week with no chance to sleep but in weapon pits.”49 Further
records revealed the physical condition of the battalion by December 22: “All
ranks … were thoroughly tired out after the continuous movements of the
preceeding days. Lack of sleep, climbing hills through difficult trails,
preparing defensive position, irregular and in some cases very meagre meals,
all contributed to this condition.”50 This heightened sense of exhaustion
did little to help the mounting friction between British and Canadian
Commanders. The exhaustion was so great at times that Lt-Col. Home, Commander
of the Royal Rifles of the East Brigade on the Island, was willing to risk his
military career by insisting that the Regiment be relieved on December 24
against the wishes of his immediate superior, “otherwise he would not be
responsible for what would happen.”51 His battalion was dead tired and he
felt further resistance would only result in the wasting of valuable Canadian
lives.52 Relief was granted but cut short due
to further determined attacks by the Japanese. In the hours leading up to the
surrender, casualties rapidly mounted.

Many soldiers could not bring themselves to recount in their diaries
the sorrow and untold suffering of the days leading to December 25th.
Thomas Forsyth, of the Winnipeg Grenadiers, was one such soldier, as seen
recorded in his diary: “I cannot bring myself to write what happened between
the 18th and the 25th. All I can say is that I saw too
many brave men die, some were my best friends and died beside me.”53
Sgt. Ross echoed the same sentiment, as recorded in his diary on December 20th:
“too terrible to say anything about. Japs good fighters.”54 Cambon
recalled the brilliant but costly counter-attack around Stanley Village on Christmas Day that saw 26 killed and 75 wounded.55 ‘D’ Company of the
Royal Rifles of Canada lost 84% of its original force of 120 men in Stanley, virtually decimating the company.56

Christmas Day, 1941, found the defenders of Hong Kong in desperate
circumstances. Juxtaposed alongside a looming sense of hopelessness, was the
optimistic Christmas greeting of British Prime Minister Winston Churchill: “Christmas
greetings to you all. Let this day be historical in the proud annals of our
Empire. The order of the day is to hold fast.”57 A more
realistic Christmas day message came from an unexpected well-wisher, as the
Japanese declared: “Merry Christmas, […] you have fought a good fight, but you
are outnumbered. Now is the time to surrender.”58 Ken
Gaudin, of the Royal Rifles of Canada, remembers Christmas Day, 1941, as he recalled
how the wounded and dying in Stanley Barracks singing, “Silent Night, Holy
Night,”59 while the white flag, unbeknownst to
him, had already been raised near Fortress Headquarters. Canadian losses incurred
during the battle were heavy, amounting to a total of 23 officers and 267 other
ranks killed or died of wounds, as well as 26 officers and 465 other ranks
wounded.60

With the fall of Hong Kong, the Canadian government’s decision to
send troops to the Pacific front on an ill-fated mission sparked controversy at
home, as many scrambled to lay blame. The exoneration of the Canadian
Government in 1942 of “any dereliction of duty or error in judgement” by the
Duff Commission only added fuel to the controversies.61 When
Canadian soldiers returned home from the war some were outraged when they heard
of printed accusations in Britain that Canadians were to blame for the fall of
the colony.62 British commanders, in seeking to
explain operational failure, chose to single out Commonwealth and Indian forces
and Canadians bore the brunt of this criticism.63

World War II is viewed in Canadian public memory as the good war,
fought mostly in Europe. Battles fought on the European front, such as Dieppe, Ortona and Normandy, continue to remain indelibly engraved in Canadian memory and
are remembered as part of the ‘good fight.’ What little public memory there
exists concerning the battle of Hong Kong is often focussed on criticisms or centred
on the prisoners of war. Ken Cambon, an ex-prisoner of war, tries to explain
the public memories associated with Hong Kong, as he suggests that perhaps it
is because the battle of Hong Kong is not a ‘I win’ story, and that “history is
written by the winners and the losers expect what they get.”64

If looked strictly through military lenses, Hong Kong can, perhaps, be
regarded as a military disaster. However, Canadian historian, Carl Vincent,
feels that the battle of Hong Kong “deserves to stand in public memory along
side the most famous exploits of the Canadian army.”65 It has
often been said that “it doesn’t matter if you win or lose, it’s how you play
the game.” Many of the actions of courageous Canadians in Hong Kong deserve to
be legendary and remembered, such as the gallantry at Wong Nei Chong Gap, and
the counter-attacks at Stanley. Canadians’ memories of the battle of Hong Kong
should, perhaps, be more aligned with those of George MacDowell, of the Royal
Rifles of Canada, when he states that: “these young men […] under impossible
circumstances and against desperate odds, with their backs to the sea, fought
to the end without a thought of surrender because of who they were and what
they believed in.”66

Brereton Greenhous, referring to memoirs written by ex-prisoners of
war from Hong Kong, has cautioned that some memoirs contain “uncertain
recollections of those who survived, some assembled during a malevolent
captivity, some in the immediate aftermath of war, others long afterwards from
memories embittered by injustice, embellished by time, or embroidered by both.”67
Greenhous further notes that “while this may be true of the battle, as accounts
vary due to the destruction of the original official records, there is little
variation in the accounts of deprivation [and] punishment […] experienced while
prisoners of war.”68 Over the past decade the voice of
ex-prisoners of war, and their harrowing experiences, has slowly begun to emerge
from the deep and hidden corners of their hearts and minds. The diary of Rifleman
Henry Lyons, of the Royal Rifles of Canada, gives one possible explanation for
the silence of so many Hong Kong veterans for so long when he recorded: “if we
ever get out of here, there will be no use to tell our people, as it was so bad
you wouldn’t expect anyone to believe that human beings could be so cruel.”69
Several scholarships have focussed on the experiences of Canadians in Hong Kong and Japanese prisoner of war camps. Many other scholarships that provide
details of the battle also identify specific details of prisoner of war life in
great detail, including day to day activities and meticulous descriptions of
the environment in which they were set. This paper will focus on experiences
that were common to most, and often all, POWs in prison camps in Hong Kong and Japan. The shared experiences that will be discussed will be: emasculation, work,
brutality, resistance, morale, sameness, starvation and disease.

Articles 2 and 3 of the Geneva Convention relative to the treatment
to prisoners of war, signed in 1929, states: “Prisoners of war […] shall at
all times be humanely treated and protected, particularly against acts of
violence, from insults and public curiosity.”70 While the Geneva
Convention on the treatment of POWs was often ignored in one fashion or another
by many countries during the Second World War, Japan was unique in that the
Japanese had signed but not ratified in its own parliament the document. Thus “Japan had no legal obligation in international law to follow the precepts of that
particular Convention.”71 The cruel and harsh treatment of
prisoners of war by the Japanese guards led to a six times higher death rate
than those held captive elsewhere.72 For most Canadian soldiers serving
during the Second World War, 1942 marked the beginning of their battle
experience while, for the Canadian soldiers at Hong Kong, their fighting days
had already ended and the nightmare of nearly four years of captivity had
begun.

Those last days of 1941 and early days of 1942 have similarly been
described by veterans as frightening and intensely worrisome alongside a
feeling of relief that the wearisome battle was finally over and that a hot
meal was in store. One soldier recalling this period remarked: “very hazy
about what happened after that. We sort of wandered around. Told to go here,
go there, do this, do that for the next couple of days. I don’t remember where
we ended up.”73 Canadian soldiers, on 31 December 1941, marched 16 miles to their first place of incarceration, North Point
Camp. North Point Camp became the point of reference to rate all other camps,
and “a crucible which would test their will to the very limit of endurance”74
It was also at North Point that transpired the “transition from human dignity
to the nothingness of being a prisoner of the Japanese Imperial Army.”75

The beginning stages of prisoner of war life at North Point Camp and,
subsequently, Sham Shui Po Camp, required basic adjustments to captivity and
acclimatization to overcrowded living conditions and a new calorie-reduced
daily diet, consisting mainly of rice. The effect of defeat, and subsequent
captivity, had a dramatic effect on the morale of men. Canadian medical
historian, Charles Roland, addresses some of the psychological effects that
would have been commonly felt by soldiers upon surrendering and subsequent
defeat: “once men have surrendered and survived, they have to cope with the
psychological crisis of believing that they have failed in their military
duty.”76 William Allister recalled the orders
to surrender all their arms: “It was all wrong. My precious Lee-Enfield? […]
Without it I was a half a man, helpless.”77

Combat and masculinity were intertwined concepts during the Second
World War. Soldiers were considered ‘real’ men, ready to risk their lives and fight
in the name of freedom. Any threat or assault upon a soldier’s masculinity could
be internalized as a threat to his personal identity: “protect and maintain
what you are intrinsically, or you could lose it, mutate, become something
else.”78 One soldier echoed this fear as he
later recalled: “our entire identity was to be removed, we were now chattel
slaves brought to an alien land with its alien culture, its alien language.”79
Emasculation is a topic seldom discussed in the scholarship concerning the
transition from soldier to prisoner of war. Roland does provide a medical analysis
of the affects of severe malnutrition on libido, and points out that “men were
alarmed to think that the long-term malnutrition might produce permanent damage
to their sexual capacities.”80

POWs were repeatedly subjected to being slapped harshly on the face
for any reason whatsoever. In describing the affect of this, one soldier
recalled: “It’s pretty hard to take. It’s probably worse than being punched.”81
The importance of cigarettes helped neutralize possible threats to
masculinity. In the 1940s, cigarettes were often regarded as a symbol of
manliness. Roland states that “if smoking cigarettes conveyed an aura of
manliness, who needed that support more than men who had been defeated and
captured by the enemy.”82 Despite frail and weakened emasculated
bodies, the hard physical labour that these men miraculously performed, sick or
not, while incarcerated, would have helped ease any possible worries
surrounding their gender identity.

During the beginning stages of captivity there were no working parties
for the Japanese. Many found that they had significant amounts of time and
filled their days playing sports, reading and “lounging around the corners of
huts, the only subject of conversation being food.”83 As the
War progressed, Japan began to suffer from a labour shortage in mines and
factories and looked no further than to the thousands of young men held as
their captives. Canadians were sent to six different Japanese internment camps
in four different drafts from January 1943 to April 1944, for a total of 1,183
Canadians moved to Japan until liberation in 1945.84 Those
that remained at Sham Shui Po were sent out on day work parties, for jobs such
as building an extension on the Kai Tak airfield. Forsyth’s diary records :
“I was one of a large party who went out to the Kai Tak air field on the Kowloon side, worked with pick and shovel and handled crushed stone, and big bags of
cement.”85 Clifford McDavid’s more realistic
description of the same job is described when he recalled, “we moved a mountain
for the airport.”86

In the beginning, men sought to join the Japanese work parties as
this labour demand was seen largely in optimistic terms, with hopes of improved
living conditions and better food. It was not long, however, before harsh
reality confirmed that their situation was no better, and in many ways worse.
Rifleman George W. Murray, of the Royal Rifles of Canada, was one of 12
Canadians who died at Omine Camp, on the island of Kyushu. Murray had worked
with 163 other Canadians held captive at Omine. Sgt. Lance Ross kept the most
detailed account of prison life at Omine, and his diary records note that he
was the first Canadian to enter the mine that he was in.87 Day
and night the mine was staffed in rotating shifts. Days “off” brought little
rest as Ross records that men were required to work around the camp.88
Few men escaped the long gruelling days of slave labour, as those who were sick
were often forced to work, as seen when Sgt. Ross lamented, “I have dysentery,
passing blood but I have to go to work just the same.”89

Conditions were rarely better at other Japanese prison camps. In
fact, Niigata 5B was considered to be one of the worst places to be sent, as 75
Canadians died during their captivity in Niigata. Niigata prisoners worked at
the Shintitsu foundry, the Marutsu dockyards and the Rinko coal mine. Harold
Atkinson recalled working eleven hour days, seven days a week, with one day off
each month.90 Atkinson worked at the shipyards
loading and unloading boxcars containing heavy pig iron, as well as 90 kilo
bags of soybeans.91 Canadian prisoners of war, James Martin
and Harold Gibbons, were compelled, by camp commander Lieut. Masato Yoshida, to
walk to work in bare feet every day for four months.92 War
crimes trials held after the war concluded that Yoshida had been responsible
for more ill-treatment of Canadians in Japan than any other war criminal.93

Accounts of prisoner of war experiences, either written in POW camps
or recorded decades later in memoirs, all document the personal or witnessed
harsh and brutal treatment of their Japanese captors. St. Ross recorded in his
diary on April 26, 1943: “I got beat up by Jap Sgt. Cut my lip and tried to
knock me down and I couldn’t even hit back…”94 Many choose not to
focus on their own suffering but on that of their fellow comrades. John R.
Stroud, of the Royal Rifles of Canada, recalled the fatal beatings of Rifleman
Reginald Haley for not going fast enough at work.95 Few
ex-prisoners did not make mention of the worst case of brutality either
witnessed, or later recounted, at the war crimes trial, namely the torture and
subsequent death of James Mortimer of the Royal Rifles of Canada. George Dixon
of the U.S. Navy, and fellow prisoner, testified at the war crimes trial that
Mortimer and American prisoner, Gerald Titman, were accused of stealing a can
of salmon from Japanese stores. Mortimer and Titman were “strung by their
thumbs and the ropes adjusted over the rafter to keep them on tip-toe. Then
they were tied to an outside gatepost in freezing weather and left there for
seven to ten days. They were beaten and kicked regularly by passing guards.”96
Both men died within days of being cut free.

The bitterness and trauma associated with the atrocities that
occurred at St. Stephens College in 1941 were still seen 50 years later in an
interview with Bob Clayton in the National Film Board of Canada’s production of
the documentary, The Valour and the Horror. Clayton, while visiting the
site where the massacres occurred, shook his head and said, “what those bastards
did in here, I’ll never forget.”97 Memories still remain of how the
makeshift emergency hospital was overrun by approximately 150-200 Japanese
soldiers who broke into the hospital where they stabbed to death helpless patients
and raped, mutilated and murdered women nurses. Captain James Barnett,
chaplain of the Royal Rifles, recorded being witness to fifteen or twenty
wounded soldiers lying in beds being bayoneted by Japanese soldiers.98
When the slaughter ended, survivors were put to work to clean up after the
massacre.

Despite the inhumanity experienced at the hands of their Japanese
captors, all was not quiet submission to the Japanese. Sgt. Ross silently recorded
in his diary: ”they can break my back but not my heart!”99 While
often feeling no better than ‘chattel slaves,’ accounts are seen of active and
passive resistance while held in captivity. The right to escape is enshrined
in the Geneva Convention and duly understood by soldiers once taken into
captivity. A few soldiers gambled with their lives and attempted to escape,
leading to the Japanese ordering all prisoners to sign a guarantee that they
would not escape. Lance-Corporal J. Porter refused to sign the order and was
taken to Stanley Prison with six others. Porter was shaken awake every hour
throughout each night, beaten, and eventually denied any food and water. This
went on for many days, until Porter made the decision that any hope of freedom required
him to sign the order, which, in the end, he did.100

Men also exercised their agency during work projects, as recalled by
Bob Clayton. He remembered that work plans for the creation of a new runway at
the Kai Tak airport were foiled when work parties sabotaged efforts by mixing “all
kinds of stuff” in the cement.101 Being involved in underground
operations was also a means of exercising one’s agency. One such underground
operation began as prisoners heard rumours of mass executions if Allied forces
invaded. At Omine Prison Camp in Japan, Sgt. Ross and Company Sergeant-Major Frank
Ebdon were part of an underground operation that worked to prepare maps of the
area and secure 800 sticks of dynamite from the mine where they worked, to
smash their way out of camp upon word of Allied invasion.102 The
Japanese later discovered the maps and forced Ross, Ebdon and six senior NCOs
to remain standing for 36 hours straight, while they were, in turn,
interrogated. Ross recorded the event in his diary: “Got out today, stood up
all that time. Didn’t think it possible.”103 Ross, and many others
like him, would continue to prove to themselves, time and time again, that despite
all odds, anything was possible!

In the first few months of captivity, morale was at its lowest as
men grappled with the effect of defeat and the hardships of their new
environment. One soldier remembered when he was told he had diphtheria and
said: “I looked at the electric wire fence and I considered putting an end to
myself. I don’t know why I didn’t do it, but I didn’t. That’s the lowest I’ve
ever been.”104 As survival often meant concentrating
on getting through one day at a time, many relied on routine activities that
helped boost their morale and give them the encouragement they needed to make
it through another day. As one soldier commented on the importance of morale:
“The only thing that saved a lot of us from dying was our morale.”105
Lord Russell of Liverpool, in his study of the allied prisoners in the Far
East, attributed the fact that so many were able to survive their years of
captivity, sound in mind, if not in body, was due to two factors: religion and
a sense of humour.106

Feeling at one point that he could not go on, one soldier recalled
how humour helped him as he listened to Patrick McKenna sing a funny song while
rubbing his pained feet afflicted by beriberi.107 Sgt.
Ross recorded in his diary, Church parades, service and songs sung, and noted that
while “some of the men have gone religious, never swear, others have turned to
hate God’s name and curse everything and everyone, they are real atheists.”108
It appears that Lance-Corporal Francis Martyn may have been one of those
referred to by Ross, as his diary makes several references to him “giving up
swearing and talking dirty.”109 Sports and entertainment were also a
part of prisoner of war life; however, sports probably played a less important
role in maintaining morale than did other forms of entertainment. Roland
states that “as hunger became a serious problem the men gave up sports for lack
of energy.”110

Books were described by one soldier as “a magic elixir to fill the
brooding hours.”111 Thomas Forsyth documented during his
captivity the extensive list of books he read in and out of hospital. However,
much like having to give up sports due to lack of energy, reading was often
given up due to vitamin deficiencies that created painful and often permanent
optic nerve damage. Forsyth, unfortunately, did not escape this problem, as he
later recorded: “I will have to give up reading altogether. I am afraid my
eyes are giving me a lot of trouble.”112 Phil Doddridge
recalled his time spent with fellow Royal Rifle of Canada, George Buckley, in
Sham Shui Po, as they would share the recitation of poetry by Robert Service.113
Temporary lifts in morale also came in small doses in the form of mail, Red
Cross parcels and meat; all of which were few and far between. Leon Cyr of
Royal Rifles of Canada, recalled that during his entire time of incarceration
he only received one Red Cross parcel, which was divided between four guys.114
While many of these morale boosting activities did much to help one get
through each miserable day, one soldier summed up what he learned about the
ability to endure: “In the end I learned that it isn’t the outward
circumstances which determine what one can endure, but something in oneself
which either breaks, or stays intact, under strain.”115

With respect to day-to-day activities, Dr. Roland states: “That
life went on as normally as possible is natural and expected though the
sometimes remarkable adaptations to horrendous conditions may border on the
incredible.”116 Roland further goes on to state that,
“if any one aspect of prisoner of war life stands out in the memories of the
men, it is the sameness.”117 Sameness and routine provided relief
from the constant fear of the future. Survival required getting through one
day at a time, and that meant adherence to the monotony of everyday routines.
Routines became so instilled that one soldier later recalled: “it was as if we
had known no other life, the daily routine, the inadequate food, the shabby
clothes, the daily humiliations, seem to be the real and only life we had
known…all else seemed a dream, and Canada just a name on some dimly remembered
map.”118

Diaries written while prisoners of war contained three similar
topics that the men wrote about: work, weather and food. Sgt. Ebdon’s
commonly found first line to many of his diary entries began with “same routine
as yesterday.”119 Daily entries of one’s menu for the
day was also a common diary entry. Lance-Corporal Martyn recorded the menu of
the day in North Point prison camp on January 16, 1942: breakfast: rice, lunch: tea (plain) and supper: rice (small).120 A prisoner’s diet
varied from time to time and from camp to camp, however, it consisted mainly of
polished rice, sometimes replaced or supplemented by barley, corn and millet,
with little or no meat or fish.121 Military organization was another
aspect where routine was instilled and provided prisoners a sense of identity.
George MacDonnell, of the Royal Rifles of Canada, recalled that “we were an
organized military unit, with its formal structure and ranks intact and fully
operational. […] Each individual was constantly reminded that he was a Canadian
soldier who was only temporarily under the control of the Japanese.”122

Despite all best efforts to remain strong and endure, disease was
one reality of prisoner of war life that soldiers had little control over, as a
result of long-continued malnutrition and starvation. “Since entering the
hospital on December 19th”, Martyn records, “I have had:
pneumonia—beri beri—diahoerra [sic]—malnutrition—underweight—sciabes [sic]—piles,
and general weakness.”123 The list that Martyn describes was
not unlike any other list that would have been produced by other prisoners of
war. The most common illnesses referred to in POW diaries from Hong Kong and Japan were that of dysentery, beriberi, ‘electric’ or ‘hot’ feet, visual impairments, open
sores, and diphtheria. Tom Forsyth makes his first reference to ‘electric’
feet in his diary on 25 August 1942, as many men after eight months of dietary
deficiency and starvation were exhibiting numerous physical symptoms. Forsyth
further notes that the pain associated with ‘electric’ feet is “almost impossible
to describe” and concludes his day’s entry with some hint of the severity: “one
of our [sergeants] is delirious with the pain.”124 After
the war, and upon medical inspection, the term ‘avitaminosis’ was used to cover
all disease or diseases relating to vitamin deficiency in the diet. ‘Electric
feet’ became one such consequence of avitaminosis. A post-war report concluded
that 100% of all ex-POWs from Hong Kong and Japan suffered from avitaminosis.125

One trial that would test many to the very limits of their endurance
came to those who succumbed to the diphtheria epidemic which swept through Sham
Shui Po Camp in October of 1942. Diphtheria is a highly infectious disease
usually affecting the tissues of the throat as a heavy membrane develops,
leading to eventual asphyxiation if not treated. Toxins that develop due to
the spread of the bacteria later affect the function of nerves and movement of
limbs.126 For a considerable period diphtheria
claimed the lives of three to four men a day.127 One
soldier recalled that “those that survived the diphtheria epidemic felt they
would be able to get through anything for the future.”128 Upon
liberation, 267 Canadians died while prisoners of the Japanese, amounting to
40% of all prisoner of war deaths during the Second World War.129

After
the war, medical tests and assessments were performed on the former prisoners.
By 1949, it had become apparent that “rehabilitation of these repatriates from
Japanese prison camps had not proceeded as well as had been hoped or expected.”130
Dr. John Crawford, a former prisoner of war medical orderly, was commissioned
to conduct an assessment of Hong Kong veterans for the presence of various
symptoms, and to determine whether any changes in incidence had occurred since
liberation in 1945. The study set out to determine how many individuals were
suffering from the after-effects of long-term nutritional starvation. Frequent
symptoms five years after liberation included fatigue, paraesthesia, or
shooting pains in the feet and legs, visual complaints, gastro-intestinal
difficulties and nervousness. While some prisoners of war may have been
fortunate enough to have escaped diphtheria, none escaped the pain and suffering
related to vitamin deficiency in one’s diet. One ex-prisoner of war later recalled
that at the beginning of the war he weighed 158 pounds and was reduced to a
mere 98 pounds upon liberation.131 The media also contributed to the
message that Canadians had faired better than expected, underestimating the
health affects of years of deprivation, as seen in a Globe & Mail
article in September 1945, titled “Prisoners in Kowloon Healthier Than Hoped.”132

Canadians
were shielded from being greeted by the emaciated, skeletal frames of their
returning prisoners of war from Hong Kong and Japan, as it took one to two months
for repatriation, by which time most of the ex-prisoners had gained back the
weight they had lost while captive. Showing little external signs of their years
of deprivation, it is easy to see how the return of over 1400 prisoners of ‘C’
Force, from the Pacific, at the end of the war was largely overshadowed by the
hundreds of thousands returning home from Europe.133 An
article in the Montreal Gazette draws attention to another reason why these men
have, in past, been referred to as “the forgotten heroes of WWII.”134
The article explains how their attitudes toward what they endured can be seen
by one soldier’s comments after the war: “I don’t want to talk about Jap
treatment or brutality, it’s over and I want to forget it.”135 It
would be decades before their voices would trickle onto the written pages of
history so that all Canadians would know and never forget the emotional and
physical trauma experienced by Canadian volunteers while in the service of
their country.

Despite
the initial homecoming fanfare and celebrity status, as recalled by George
McDonell, there lurked, hidden amongst the overriding rapture of rediscovered freedom,
fear and trepidation.137 One Canadian prisoner expressed the
worries and anxieties about freedom in a letter to his friend. He wrote: “I
can’t help but think of all the things we are going to have to learn before we
feel at home. Will we feel lost, frightened by the things we see?”138
Many did have difficulty adjusting to the early days of freedom as life in
captivity was still fresh in their minds. In a report documenting the physical
and psychological experiences of the prisoners of war, it was noted that the
adjustment to home life was so difficult because the expectations of families
and friends had been too great.139 Ken Cambon addressed this very topic when
he noted that readjusting to freedom seemed harder than the years in prison
camp as, “the only goal was to survive” while a prisoner of war.140
Cambon recalled that it was much more difficult to adapt to family patterns
which were expected of him.141 Readjusting to family life and
expectations was just part of the uphill battle these men would face throughout
their lives.

One of the first of many hurdles the ex-prisoners of war had to face
was in dealing with the Canadian government and bringing proper justice upon
those who had been accused of committing war crimes in the Pacific. Those
captured and accused of war crimes numbered approximately eight times more than
those accused in Europe.142 Whether sufficient justice was served
is a matter of contention, as the American policy of clemency in 1950 reduced
many prison sentences.143 While many veterans were vehemently
opposed to clemency, there was no outcry of public support, as attentions had been
turned to the mounting tensions between the United States and the U.S.S.R.

While the Canadian government and its citizens prepared for the
possibility of nuclear war, the ex-prisoners of war from Hong Kong prepared to
take on the Canadian government, as they banded together in 1948 and organized
the Hong Kong Veterans Association (HKVA). This battle would be long and drawn
out, with small victories along the way. Troubles began, with respect to
future pension rights and compensation, when prisoners returned home and were
examined by Canadian doctors unfamiliar with diagnosing tropical parasitic
diseases, such as dysentery. Encouraged by the quick return of lost weight,
many discharge papers made no mention of their medical problems.144
This proved to be a significant roadblock for those Hong Kong veterans who
later sought disability pensions as a result of their military service. Veterans
were encouraged by the increase in public support, as seen in an editorial
published in June of 1948 in the Vancouver Daily Province titled, “Must They Fight Twice for Their Pay?”145 In 1952 Hong Kong
veterans were awarded their first war claims payments as compensation for
maltreatment during imprisonment. This amount of $1.00 per day of imprisonment
was awarded with an additional .50 per day added in 1958.146

Throughout the 1950s and 1960s the Hong Kong Veterans Association continued
their fight with the government for benefits and compensation, with
representatives appearing numerous times before the Standing Committee on
Veterans Affairs. In 1963, the HKVA sought benefits that would entitle all
Canadian survivors of Japanese POW camps to an automatic pension of 50%
disability, further allowing widows of veterans to receive widows’ benefits.
Lengthy studies and investigations were requested by the Pension Commission,
leading to the government’s acknowledgement in January 1971 of the special
service of Hong Kong veterans. It took twenty-five years of pleading with the
Canadian government for the veterans to be awarded the pension they felt they
deserved. During this period of time many veterans spent considerable amounts
of time in and out of the hospital, while 143 of the 1,418 soldiers liberated
in 1945 had died by 1965, with the average age of death being around 40.147
Paradoxically, in 1966, while veterans were still battling for pension rights,
the Canadian government officially celebrated the 25th anniversary
of the liberation of Canadian troops from captivity in the Far East by sending
80 veterans and “the usual heavy dose of politicians and bureaucrats and
ministerial hangers-on” to Hong Kong.148 This was for many
veterans their first trip back and old wounds were reopened, as reflected in
the comments made by Queen-Hughes, a Winnipeg Grenadier, when he said: “It’s
like the government—they never really wanted to know what happened after
sending us stupidly to Hong Kong in the first place. […] They hid their eyes
from the war crimes trials and pretended that they had nothing to do with
Canadians.”149 The frustration and bitterness of the Hong Kong veterans would not end here, and is poignantly expressed in a poem written in
1970 by ex-POW, Geoffrey Marston, titled “A Hong Kong Diary.” While the poem
was directed towards his Japanese captors, it can also be applied to the feelings
often expressed by veterans towards the Canadian government. Half-way through
the poem it reads:

Canadian ex-POWs from Hong Kong, and their posterity, have been
world-wide leaders in the effort to convince reluctant governments to award
pensions appropriate to service and to conditions experienced.151 Nowhere
is this more evident than in one of their final conflicts. In 1987 the War
Amputations of Canada, in association with the Hong Kong Veterans Association
of Canada, submitted an extensive claim to the United Nations Commission on
Human Rights, with respect to the gross violation of human rights committed by
the Japanese for the incarceration of Canadian Servicemen in Hong Kong and
Japanese prisoner of war camps during the Second World War.152 The initial
goal of the submission, based on a gross violation of human rights, was to
receive compensation from the Japanese government for the forced labour performed
while prisoners of war. Roadblocks, such as the 1952 Peace Treaty that
absolved Japan of any responsibility, were not enough to thwart the efforts of the
veterans and their supporters.

In 1993, fed up with the Canadian government’s unwillingness to
negotiate with Japan to pay reparations, the veterans proposed that the
Canadian government pay their compensation claim.153 The
list of supporters for the Hong Kong veterans, by this time, had grown
significantly. As veterans, and supporters alike, were gearing up to take on
the Canadian government, citizen ‘enlightenment’ of the situation was needed to
acquire the much needed public pressure. Subsequently, a documentary produced
by H. Clifford Chadderton, of the War Amputations of Canada, and Patron of the
HKVA, was prepared for the Canadian public, titled “Canada’s Hong Kong
Veterans—The Compensation Story.”154 The response of the Canadian public
was as favourable as hoped. The Globe and Mail picked up the story and
reported on 16 August 1993: “Human-rights expert urges compensation for
Canadian PoWs.” The article quotes John Humphrey, a long-time head of the
United Nations Human Rights Directorate: “Canada will be tarred […] for its
refusal to press for negotiation of one of the shameful legacies of the Second
World War.”154 The article also scolds the Canadian
government for turning its back on POWs.

Of the original 1,418 survivors of ‘C’ Force, only 350 of them would
have been fortunate enough to see the fruits of their labours come to fruition
in 1998 by the awarding of $24,000 to each surviving Far East POW, or to their
widow, for the forced labour endured while prisoners of the Japanese. CBC News,
on 12 December 1998, heralded the success of Canada’s Hong Kong veterans, but
also reminded Canadians of the grievances they still harbour in never receiving
a formal apology from the Japanese government for the suffering they endured
while held captive during the war.155 Dollars can never fully compensate
for the sacrifices made at Hong Kong, and there will always be those who argue
‘what has been has been.’ Argument and recrimination will do nothing to repair
the damage, nor will it mitigate any of the hardships of those young Canadians
who fell prisoners to the Japanese.

Remembrance Day is viewed as a sacred day each year when Canadian
citizens from across the country gather to pay tribute to those men and women
who sacrificed their lives in the name of freedom. Canadians honour the many
selfless acts of bravery and courage and express heartfelt gratitude for the
freedom enjoyed today. On Remembrance Day, 2007, The Gaspé Spec, a
small local paper produced from an area where men enlisted with the Royal
Rifles of Canada, published an article titled: “The Hong Kong Veterans of
Canada, ‘Our forgotten heroes.’”156 What of those ‘heroes’ who did not
offer the ‘ultimate’ sacrifice of their life during wartime, and is it one’s
responsibility to honour or recognize all sacrifices made in the name of
freedom? Dr. Roland feels that the battle of Hong Kong, and the prisoner of
war experience, “deserve to be better known among those of us who have benefited
from their sacrifices.”157

There have been many different forces that have affected the public
memory of the battle of Hong Kong over the years. What is interesting to note
is the change in public perception, and, in many instances, the creation of a
public memory, from the time survivors returned home until the present. Initial
perceptions about the war centred around the comments of Doddridge. Doddridge
recalled that “when we first returned to Canada, it was widely believed that we
were losers, which, in a sense we were.”158 Losers or not, those
who returned home were not anxious to change public perceptions that focused on
defeat, as energies were turned elsewhere.

It was not until the 1960s that the first two historical accounts
of the battle of Hong Kong appeared, albeit published by British historians, and
more than likely with a British bias. It was not until the 1980s and 1990s
that new scholarship emerged written by Canadian historians, as well as Hong Kong veterans, leading to the creation of a history of the battle beyond that of
military defeat and political blunder. These accounts contributed
significantly to fostering a greater public awareness and understanding of the
hardships and challenges Canadian soldiers faced in other theatres of war
during World War II. Commemorations, celebrating key anniversaries that mark
the date of Canadian liberation in Hong Kong and Japan, have further served to
impress upon Canadian minds the valuable role the Canadian Army played in the
Pacific War, as well as recognize their unique experiences. One such
commemoration, marking the 50th anniversary, led to the National
Film Board of Canada’s production of the television documentary, titled: The
Valour and the Horror. This film effectively portrays the dual messages
that have disseminated through the years, namely, that of controversy,
bitterness and horror, juxtaposed alongside courage, pride and valour. There
is, more than ever before, a certain sentiment associated with the memories of
Hong Kong that were once echoed by Daniel J. MacDonald, Minister of Veteran
Affairs in 1980, when he stated: “we are in the company of a special breed of
men. They had to be.”159

With only 114 remaining Hong Kong veterans as of March, 2008, there
is a growing concern among veterans that their sacrifices will be forgotten. Many
family members of those who served in the Far East feel it is their duty to
make sure their memories live on, as seen by the formation of the Hong Kong
Veterans Commemorative Association (HKVCA). Formed in 1995, a group of sons
and daughters of veterans banded together to assist aging veterans and widows.
They have also worked tirelessly to create a greater public awareness of the
heroic role the soldiers played in the defence of Hong Kong and the hardships
they faced for nearly four years while prisoners of war.

While the passing of time should not erase or overlook historical
accounts in lieu of those presented in the “softer light of revision,”160
“what they suffered, and their spirit of courageous endurance, out to be
remembered forever in their honour.”161 One such initiative to
ensure that the battle of Hong Kong remain in the public eye has been
undertaken by the HKVCA, in fulfillment of their promises made to the Veterans,
that Canadians who fought in Hong Kong, and what they experienced, would not be
forgotten. The creation of a lasting memorial has been approved, in principle,
which would see the construction of a ‘C’ Force Memorial Wall to serve as a
tribute to those 1,975 Canadian volunteers who were sent to assist the British
in defending against the Japanese invasion. This memorial is scheduled for
completion in 2010 and will be situated on National Capital Commission property
located in Ottawa with easy public access. Public support has been strong, as
donations have poured in from agencies, corporations, friends and supporters,
as well as the veterans and their families. Bob Clayton, concluded the
documentary with words spoken directly to his fellow comrades, when he said:
“Wherever you are, and wherever you go, you can say: ‘I’m a Hong Kong Veteran,’
and hold your head up high.”162 We, too, as Canadians can walk with our
heads held high knowing that we are the beneficiaries of their sacrifices and
that the memorial wall will serve as a lasting testament recognizing all
sacrifices in the name of freedom.

Appendix

‘C’ Force Memorial Wall

Endnotes

1Phil Doddridge, “Memories
Uninvited,” Home Page, Retrieved February 13, 2008 from the World Wide Web: http://www.geocities.com/phil_doddridge/.

10LAC, Ottawa, File
# RG 33-120 Volume 2, “Royal Commission to Inquire Into and Report Upon the
Organization, Authorization and Dispatch of the Canadian Expeditionary Force to
the Crown Colony of Hong Kong, 1940-1942,” (referred to as Duff Commission,
published in August 1942): Header: “The Royal Rifles of Canada.”

70Diplomatic
Conference of Geneva of 1929, “Convention relative to the Treatment of
Prisoners of War, Geneva, 27 July 1929,” International Committee of the Red
Cross, Retrieved March 27, 2008 from the World Wide Web:
http://www.icrc.org/ihl.nsf/FULL/

132William Stewart,
“Prisoners in Kowloon Healthier Than Hoped,” The Globe and Mail, 6 September, 1945. Retrieved on February 23, 2008 from the World Wide Web:
http://heritage.theglobeandmail.com.proxy.library.carleton.ca.

154Andre Ficard,
“Human-rights expert urges compensation for Canadian Pows,” The Globe and
Mail, 16 August, 1993. Retrieved on March 23, 2008 from the World Wide Web: http://heritage.theglobeandmail.com.proxy.library.carleton.ca.

155“Hong Kong vets
get compensation,” CBC News, Saturday, December 12, 1998. Retrieved on February 13,2008 from the World Wide Web: http://www.cbc.ca/story/